Last Kiss
by Caitylin
Summary: A Klaine one-shot based around Taylor Swift's song Last Kiss. Blaine misses Kurt whilst he's away in New York. Light smatterings of fluff under a cloudy cover of angst


**Words: 3,280**  
**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. I don't own Kurt, or Blaine, or Glee, or Ohio, or New York, or Taylor Swift's song Last Kiss which this is based on. Please don't sue me, I only have $2.65 in my purse.**  
**A/N: This song gives me feels and Kurt and Blaine give me feels, so here are my feels on a platter. And also I couldn't sleep, so I wrote this instead of sleeping and instead of finishing my essay which is due in 14 hours and 24 minutes. Enjoy!**

* * *

Blaine unlocks the front door absent-mindedly as he struggles to put a believable smile on his face, nodding towards his mother in greeting as she flips through a magazine, sure that he wouldn't be able to speak even if she wished to engage him in conversation. He climbs the stairs to his room, wishing he could run up them just to get to sanctuary faster, but feeling so emotionally drained that all he can do is focus on placing his foot on the next step, and the one after that, hand pushing open his door and flopping on his bed. He throws his phone away, hurt, disappointed, a tiny bit frustrated even, and then jumps up almost straight away, sure, absolutely _sure _he'd heard it buzz with a new message, but leaning over the side of his bed and snatching it from the floor proves what he knew deep down: still silent, still no messages.

Blaine snatches the throw rug from the end of his bed, the same blanket he and Kurt would always cuddle under as they re-watched Singing In The Rain for the millionth time, he wraps it around himself, clutching at it tightly, desperately clinging to that faint smell of Kurt, vanilla-y, faint whiffs of hairspray, and something entirely _Kurt_, a smell Blaine knows he could never forget, but fears that he might someday, hopefully not soon. But it's not enough, the blanket's not enough, a phone call once a day wasn't enough, and now once a week (if even that) certainly isn't enough, nor is the two trips Blaine's made to New York since July last year, it's not enough.

Kurt had gone there before classes started, catching a flight with his father, Rachel and her dads, the five of them going apartment hunting, Kurt calling him in a flutter of excitement, barely able to contain his squeals of delight as he tried to explain over the phone the exact placing of every item he planned on having in their apartment. And then Blaine had made the decision in that instant, telling Kurt as soon as he could get a word in that he was catching the next flight to New York, that he wanted to be there with him and '_Hey, I'm on holidays anyway,_' so he'd packed a travel bag, assured his parents at least twenty times that he was going to New York regardless of whether they approved of him up and leaving at the last minute or not, and '_Yes, I'll be home for dinner with the Murphy's on Sunday,_' before calling a cab and making his way to see Kurt.

And he remembers that moment, could never forget it, that July 9th, the first time he'd been with Kurt in New York, an unseasonal bout of rain coating the pavement of the concrete jungle, the smell of the water mingling with that inherently _Kurt_ smell as they hugged tightly, never planning on letting go, feeling as if they hadn't seen each other for years rather than the few days it had been. And Blaine remembers the beat of Kurt's heart as it, _thump thump_, beats through his shirt and jacket, arms wrapped around his waist and this feels like home, not New York, not Ohio, but _Kurt_, Kurt is home. The thought strikes him like an arrow straight through his lungs, through his heart, and suddenly he can't breathe for the overwhelming _need _to never leave Kurt's side, but eventually he has to, he knows this, his promise of being home for dinner with the Murphy's meaning he has to leave his real home, has to leave Kurt and the tiny shoebox apartment the love of his life will call home for the next few years. '_I'll see you_ _soon_'s and '_I love you_'s and kisses with hands clutching at shirts and carding through hair nowhere near enough to make up for the fact that Kurt will be living a plane flight away from him for the next year, but only for the year Blaine had reminded himself.

They'd seen each other just before Christmas that same year, sharing a mug of hot coco as they sat on the two-seater couch in Kurt and Rachel's shoebox apartment, completely alone as Rachel had made the trip to Lima to see Finn for the holidays. They become lost in each other, the snow falling outside blocking out the rest of the world as they exchange kisses and eventually presents with the kind of ease that comes with knowing the greatest gift is simply being able to _be _with the other. And then they'd spoken on New Year's, Blaine calling Kurt right before the ball dropped in Times Square, both boys staying on the phone as Kurt made his way back to his shoebox apartment amidst the noise of celebrating New Yorkers, collapsing on his bed and talking, voices hushed, heavy silences filled with the things they wanted to say but couldn't, promises to see each other more often, apologies for the distance neither of them could physically shrink, content sighs just at the sound of the other's voice, somehow closing the gap between them.

And then Valentine's had approached more suddenly than Blaine was prepared for but he offers to fly out the weekend before, the weekend after, to skip classes, skip a whole week of classes just to see Kurt, but Kurt insists he's busy and that Blaine needn't skip classes for him because that was just silly and they would see each other soon enough and '_Blaine just drop it, okay?'_ And then Valentine's Day actually arrives and Blaine calls Kurt as soon as he wakes but it goes straight to voicemail and Blaine frets momentarily before half convincing himself that Kurt's probably just in class and so has his phone turned off. So instead he sends a lengthy text message, typing out and backspacing a hundred corny lines before settling on something simple, knowing he could never convey how much he loves and misses Kurt, not for all the words in the world. He fills the end of the message with more x's and o's than is conventional, but then again he and Kurt have never been conventional, and so he sends it off, following it up immediately with a promise to call Kurt later on that day. It's well past lunch time when Blaine gets a reply from Kurt, sitting halfway through English, sneaking his phone from the front right pocket of his jeans and attempting to read it below the desk, brow creasing as he reads the simple 'I love you too, Blaine. Happy Valentine's Day.' His mind flutters into a thousand and one questions that he wishes he knew the answer to but is so glad he doesn't for fear of what the answer might be, and so he stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to make it through the last hour or so of school, wishing more than anything that he'd ignored Kurt's protests and just gone to New York instead of being stuck in this boring as hell English class.

He opens Skype as soon as he gets home, calling Kurt and waiting for his face to appear on the screen, and then his face is there and he's able to look into those blue eyes again and a weight disappears from his shoulders, and sure it's not the same as having Kurt in front of him, real, tangible, and oh so kissable, but Blaine will take what he can get until he graduates and can join Kurt in New York. They talk for a while before Kurt insists that he's hungry and tired and really should be writing that History of Latin Music paper he's been putting off for weeks now, so they say goodbye and Kurt's about to close the connection when Blaine speaks up with a gentle '_Hey,_' Kurt's eyebrow raising in question before Blaine continues, the '_I love you so much,_' rolling easily off his tongue, he's said it a million times and still means it just as much as the first time he'd told Kurt as he watched him sip his coffee after gushing about New York what feels like hundreds of years ago. Except this time Kurt's eyes don't widen in surprise, he doesn't gulp down his coffee (he'd told Blaine later that he'd burnt his throat in the process but that it was totally worth it) and reply with the heart-warming expression Blaine is used to; instead he bites his lip, brows drawing together, before smiling quickly, '_Love you too,_' and then the connection drops and Blaine can't stop his mind from buzzing and over-analysing.

Blaine crawls off his bed because the blanket just really isn't enough and his stomach is physically hurting from missing Kurt so much, and so he drops to the floor and struggles to hold back the tears that fight their way, burning painfully, up his throat. He crawls towards his dresser, tugging open one of the lower drawers as he takes big gulps of air attempting to stifle the tears he knows will break their way through, shoving aside cardigan after cardigan until he finds that one sweat shirt Kurt had let him have, the one hoodie that Kurt actually owned and wore. It had taken months before Blaine had seen Kurt in something so, well, normal, but Kurt had been sick at the time, had protested when Burt had opened the front door and let Blaine in, revealing a huddled up Kurt on the couch, surrounded by Kleenex with The Sound Of Music playing in the background. Kurt had sighed, not having enough energy to put up a fight over Blaine seeing him like this, and had begrudgingly admitted to this sweat shirt being his guilty pleasure, the item of clothing he would wear whenever he just needed some comfort. So Blaine had sidled up beside him on the couch, clambered beneath Kurt's blanket, '_I don't care if I get sick, Kurt,_' and promised him that any time he needed comfort Blaine would be there for him in an instant, and so the dark green hoodie had ended up in amongst Blaine's cardigans, used only whenever Kurt stayed the night and was feeling particularly chilly.

Blaine discards the grey and navy blue cardigan he's wearing at the moment, shoving it off his shoulders and haphazardly tugging the dark green hoodie over his head as he leans back against his bed, clutching the blanket to him again, and finally the tears begin to fall. And it's not the first time he's ended up like this, he's cried far more often than he'd like to admit since Kurt had left for New York last year, but it's the first time he's feeling so vulnerable about it all, feeling so discarded. His heart aches, his throat is still burning with that feeling caused by crying too hard, and sobs rip themselves from his chest, the gaping pit that is his stomach desperately missing Kurt, more than ever before, and Blaine didn't even think it was possible to miss Kurt more. But it's been a week without a phone call, months without a visit, the occasional text message from Kurt has been just enough to keep Blaine functioning through his classes and home life, but finally he's breaking from just _missing him so much_.

And then the memories begin to hit him and he kind of hates when this happens because it just makes it harder to deal with the distance, but he remembers with the kind of clarity that comes with being so in love with someone like he is with Kurt. He remembers the confident way Kurt had walked into Blaine's house that first time, hands in his pockets to hide how much they were trembling from secret nerves, the way he'd shaken hands with Blaine's father, determined, with the kind of courage Blaine admired and envied, to be completely himself despite the appraising look Mr Anderson had given him on that first meeting. He remembers days and nights of lying around watching movies, baking cookies, and just talking, Blaine easily becoming overly excited about whatever nonsense he was talking about, Kurt smiling at him fondly before kissing him swiftly, shutting him up in an instant, and there's not a day that goes by that Blaine doesn't miss those tiny interruptions. And Blaine remembers the after-graduation party, Kurt, Mercedes and Rachel hogging the microphone as they performed a killer rendition of La Vie Boheme from RENT, with Blaine, Tina, and (surprisingly) Puck shouting out accompanying lyrics to the song they all knew they would never have had the opportunity to sing during Glee Club, and Blaine knows Kurt's kind of showing off, challenging Rachel and Mercedes with his vocal range, quirking his eyebrows in Blaine's direction to see if he's noticed and Blaine can't help but roll his eyes fondly at that. He remembers them dancing, closer together than Blaine would normally do without copious amounts of alcohol in his system, but Kurt pulls him in, hands resting low, solid and comforting on his waist and Blaine feels safe, knows he's safe amongst these people, and so he lets go and just dances with the love of his life.

But the memory that hits Blaine hardest is opening night of West Side Story, he remembers that look in Kurt's eyes and the swing of his step as they make their way to their cars, knowing Kurt's as nervous as he is, but knowing that they're both ready for this. He remembers lying in near-darkness, the bright red lights of his clock telling him it was 1:58, but neither he or Kurt are ready for sleeping yet, because instead Kurt's looking at him with an expression Blaine can't begin to explain but thinks it might be some kind of gratitude, though Blaine can't understand it because he's the lucky one here, he's got Kurt and that makes him the luckiest person in the world. But Kurt whispers to him, soft, gentle words that no one else will ever hear, words just for them to know and somehow that make it more special when they whisper '_I love you_'s to each other over and over before their lips reconnect once more, fingers gliding together in a perfect-fit kind of way.

And that's what Kurt really is, Blaine thinks to himself as his sobs ease and the tears slide silently down his cheeks, Kurt is the perfect fit for him, Kurt is his missing puzzle piece, but it aches so much more to know what completeness feels like and to have it snatched away by a city and a college and God knows what else Kurt has found in New York. Blaine snatches his phone up once again, attempting to smother the dull ache the flares up again at the sight of no new messages, and opens up Facebook, he scrolls through the most recent photos and statuses that appear on Kurt's timeline; comments about the cute coffee shop just around the corner from his apartment that he's become suddenly attached to, quips and inside jokes that Rachel always 'likes' along with seven or eight other names Blaine doesn't recognise, photos of a smiling Kurt, a smiling Rachel, smiling strangers staring back at Blaine through the screen of his phone, from Manhattan to Ohio.

And suddenly Blaine hates these pictures and that damn website, and he feels as if he's watching Kurt's life pass by like he used to be able to watch him sleep in those early hours of the morning before Kurt woke up, gentle sunlight bouncing off his hair and caressing his cheeks and filling the room with warmth. And Blaine feels another ache as his body remembers the feeling of Kurt lying in his arms, legs tangled together, short, soft puffs of air blowing against Blaine's neck, and he misses that feeling because now it's replaced with the feeling that Kurt is forgetting him, and Blaine clutches at the blanket again, smothering his face in it as a new wave of tears appear. His mind offers up hopes that it's nice in New York, that Kurt's enjoying himself, even as his heart seems to scream in protest, wishing Kurt was back in Lima, though feeling instantly guilty (and selfish) for even daring to think it.

But he does wish it, as selfish as it is, he just wants Kurt to be back in Ohio with him, wishes Kurt would just miss him even a fraction of the amount that Blaine misses him right now, but that's the thing, Blaine doesn't know how to be something Kurt will miss, doesn't know how to be anything of importance to Kurt, and he had told Kurt forever ago that he was no good at romance, and suddenly he's wondering and asking himself a hundred 'what if's, as if being good at romance would have kept Kurt here with him. But he knows nothing could keep Kurt from chasing his dreams, and so he just sits on his bedroom floor, feeling helpless and hopeless and so alone, wearing Kurt's old forgotten hoodie and clutching at a blanket that now only faintly smells of him, hoping that Kurt will remember him, hoping that something will remind Kurt and make him wish that he had stayed.

But he knows his wishing does nothing and so instead he drops the blanket which falls the short distance to his knees, and he presses his palms against his closed eyelids and just cries. And suddenly the thought hits him that that was probably their last kiss, standing huddled together as snowflakes dropped onto their eyelashes, the merriment of Christmas juxtaposing horribly with the sad goodbyes (_'Never goodbye, Blaine_') they were forced to share as Blaine counted down the minutes, the seconds, until he would have to board the plane back to Ohio. That had been their last kiss, and Blaine cries harder at the thought because if he'd known that, then he would have savoured it more, knowing that Kurt would be the name forever on his lips, he would have never let go, never boarded that plane, he would have stayed, forever. But now everything was falling apart and he hadn't spoken to Kurt in a week, and he never thought they'd end up like this, never thought they'd have a last kiss.

And then his bedroom door creaks open, and he knows, _just knows_, that now he's going to have to try and explain to his mother why he's crying on his bedroom floor, but instead of the questioning '_Blaine?_' of his mother's voice that he expects to hear, there's just the soft footsteps of someone crossing his room, kneeling beside him, and then two arms are wrapping around him, 'Shhhh, baby, shhhh, it's okay,' the only noise in the room besides Blaine's sniffling as he tries to get his breathing back under control, 'I've got you,' the familiar voice murmurs, pressing a kiss to Blaine's forehead.

And then Blaine can't stop himself, can't hold back, and he knows his face is probably gross from crying but he didn't think he'd get this chance again, and he realises now just how stupid he was to think that, so he lifts his hand and grasps Kurt's chin, pulling his lips towards his own and melding them together, willing to give up breathing completely as long as he never has to stop kissing Kurt, as long as they never have to have a last kiss. Their hands meet somewhere between their bodies and their fingers entwine. Missing puzzle piece. Perfect fit. Home.


End file.
